


I KNOW YOU (i love you)

by constellationsofsentences



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Grief, It's more of a drabble that a fic really, Multi, but badly written grief, george is sad, ginny gets insulted about said socks, ginny thinks about things, hermione does not repeat her seventh year, indulgence™, lots of socks, neville is Pure™ and writes a book, nothing really happens, she has lots of photos, there are socks, there is a graduation ceremony at hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:02:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8952997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellationsofsentences/pseuds/constellationsofsentences
Summary: The Muggle Studies professor says some interesting things.(Or: Ginny considers her life and loved ones, and hangs up a number of photographs.)





	

“WHAT IS IT, TO BE LOVED?”  
The professor leans forward, as though telling a secret.   
“That's for you to find out.”  
A number of the students huff, rolling their eyes at the cliché, and the speaker laughs. It's a great, booming thing.   
“You can laugh,” she says, “all you want. But remember this. You all love somebody, I hope.”  
(Ginny does. Ginny loves a lot of people.)  
“Take a picture. Plaster it on the bathroom mirror. Don't forget it.”  
(Ginny won't. She believes in her love.)  
A person next her turns, nods in the teacher’s direction.  
“What a loon,” they say. Ginny feels the temptation to shout at them. She doesn't, but she wants to.   
The teacher is not a loon. She dismisses them.   
“I thought we were taking Muggle Studies, not How To Be Batty 101,” someone says. Ginny rolls her eyes, pulls apart from the horde of students.   
She wants to scream, because with every word said against the professor, all she can think is _Luna, Luna, Luna._ She runs towards a tree, and spreads her books around. Somebody comes up beside her, eyebrow raised. She doesn't acknowledge them.  
(That night, she plasters a picture of Luna sitting in her garden on her mirror. It's a blurry picture, filled with flowers and grass and branches, but every time a leaf blows across it or Luna rearranges her hair Ginny smiles.)

 

———

 

She gets lots of socks in the mail. Hermione likes to knit them. It's a hobby, for when she gets bored.   
(Ginny thinks she's lonely, too. She misses school, and work can only distract her so much.)  
People ask her about the constant owls that leave parcels full of socks at her place at breakfast. She doesn't reply, just puts them in her steadily filling sock drawer.   
(Hermione’s sock-knitting skills aren't brilliant, but Ginny wears them anyway.)  
The letters that accompany them are short, just a _Hello_ or a _Today, crookshanks ate some macaroni_ , but each of them get carefully placed in a drawer, out of sight, but treasured.   
Then, one day, someone asks why she wears the ugly-ass socks with all those holes. Ginny glares.   
“Because my friend made them for me. I like them.”  
(She puts a picture of Hermione, standing in front of a fireplace, holding a book, below Luna’s. When she looks at it, she hears the faint crackle of a fire.)

 

———

 

She sees ads for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes in the _Daily Prophet_ every so often, but there's never any new products. She talks to Ron, but George is never there.  
“He's trying,” Ron says, “really trying.”  
Ginny suggests she comes to visit, Ron leaps at it. She gets permission from McGonagall easily, and floos straight to Diagon Alley.   
George is sitting in an armchair, head hung low over his empty hands. A bottle of Firewhiskey lies half-empty on the table, more clutter the floor. She wastes no time; he does not react when she strides up to him and puts her arms around him.   
He says, “I’m sorry.”  
“What for?” she asks. He shrugs, and grabs her hand.  
(Gradually, he gets happier, but he's not happy, yet.)  
Angelina calls, says he's working on a new product. Ron is ecstatic with anticipation.  
(A picture of George and Fred, arm in arm, goes up on her mirror. They're laughing, and in the background, her parents are laughing too.)

 

———

 

Neville sends her a massive book on herbology. He says he wants to write his own, but he needs to make a discovery before that, or it will be just the same as all the others.  
(Ginny thinks it will be individual, anyway, but says she can't wait for his discovery.)  
He tutors her through the Floo Network. She says he'd be an excellent teacher.  
(He presses his lips together and tries to hide his smile. Ginny sees it, anyway.)  
He talks about his favourite plants, and they enraptured him so that it's wonderful to look at.  
(In return, she tells him about quidditch, and he listens amazingly well.)  
(Ginny puts a picture of him at his graduation up. The disbelief writes itself all over his face, and she loves it.)

 

———

 

She graduates, and the whole family is there to see it. Percy watches, and she sees the way he's tentative to participate in anything, anymore.   
(She admires him, for being able to apologise. She could never: she's too hotheaded, too proud.)  
Ginny pulls him to sit next to her at lunch, and listens to the stories about his ridiculous co-workers.   
She invites him to her games, and he comes to every one, and the effort he makes has no difficulty in making her make the extra effort to score. He cheers, politely, every time.   
(She loves the rush of the success.)  
She re-introduces him to Oliver Wood, watches the hopefulness in his gaze.   
After a match they lose, he comes out and gives her the warmest hug.  
(She tacks a picture of him, aged seven, with Bill and Charlie to her mirror, and there push each other around inside and laugh brightly at each other’s chocolate covered mouths.)

 

———

 

The photos become her comfort. When she gets her own apartment, she puts a mirror above her writing desk. By the time she’s done, you can barely see the mirror any more. Notes and letters surround it, and Neville’s book stands proud on a bookshelf nearby.   
Harry grins down at her from his firebolt when she finishes an article. While she reads a book, her father’s eyes sparkle in her direction as he beams at a parcel filled with batteries and wires.  
(Ginny is happy. The photos are proof of that.)

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr](http://exceisiors.tumblr.com/ask)!


End file.
